Fractured
by doomcherries
Summary: Post TGTBTD. Sara and Grissom have a very important talk.


Disclaimer: I own nothing besides my own ideas, all six seasons on DVD and no money has been made off this fic.

Contains spoilers for TGTBTD.

Thanks to dreamsofhim for the wonderful beta. :)

Sara lay wide-awake, staring at the texture-less contours of her ceiling. Oh, did she want to sleep. Every fiber in her body screamed for rest; her muscles felt like they were made of lead, her eyes felt far too dry and she could feel the beginning beats of what promised to be the worst sleep headache of the decade.

Sleepless nights were nothing new. Ever since she began working night shift nearly seven years ago she could expect a few days where she didn't sleep at all. It was okay; she had learned to deal with it. But today was something different.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she hadn't slept in her own bed in months. Six months to be exact. At this point, she was used to the comfort and feel of an extra body invading her space and kicking her in the shins while she slept. He wasn't an easy man to sleep with, but she missed it all the same.

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that her neighbors had been engaged in what Sara could only phrase as "the sex marathon from hell." For the past two hours the incessant noises of the headboard banging against the wall, the creaking of springs and over-zealous screams and moans invaded her ears and threatened to take permanent residence in her brain.

Kicking the covers away from her restless body, Sara turned around and started pounding on the wall behind her. "Hey! Some people are trying to sleep over here!"

She could hear something fall with a crash and the muted curses of two very annoyed lovebirds.

"Good. Serves you two right," she muttered to herself walking out to the kitchen. "Besides, who has sex in the middle of the dinner hour?"

Sara smirked to herself.

There had been that one time she and Grissom competed with the noisy neighbors. After a particularly rough shift all either of them wanted to do was catch up on some much needed sleep. Unfortunately, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum had already started screaming their praises for each other's bodies. They weren't going to be sleeping anytime soon, so why not have a friendly competition with the neighbors?

And Sara didn't compete to lose.

Fumbling with the coffee maker, Sara filled the filter with the Blue Hawaiian she had stolen from Greg. Never should he have let her know where he hid his "secret" stash at work. She'd been pinching off cups of the enticing ground beans ever since. Within minutes, the fresh aroma of coffee filled the apartment.

Inhaling deeply, she sighed and cocked her head slightly to the right as she noticed an envelope with her name written on the front shoved under her door. Curiosity got the best of her and Sara quickly picked up the plain envelope and turned it over carefully in her hands. Although the handwriting was sloppier than she was used to, there was no mistaking Grissom's penmanship.

Tearing at the envelope, Sara pulled out the single piece of paper and groaned inwardly at the only three words on the page in the same sloppy writing.

_Let me in._

Opening the door, Sara's scream reverberated on the walls as Grissom fell backward into her apartment. He let out a small cry of his own as his head hit the hardwood floor beneath him. A groan fell from his lips as he brought a hand up to his head, but made no attempt to move.

"What the hell, Grissom!"

His only response was more groaning and some unintelligible babbling.

Sara's gaze fell over the three empty bottles of beer near Grissom's feet. Dragging her eyes up the length of his body, she rested on his disheveled face and bloodshot eyes. She sighed and grabbed his left arm in a poor attempt to drag his dead weight through the door.

"If you don't even try to help me out here, we'll be having a very serious conversation halfway between my place and the hallway. So if you don't want everyone to hear about your skeletons, I suggest you push your drunk ass in here," she scolded softly.

Bending at the knees, Grissom began pushing himself into her apartment one slow inch at a time. "Shara, I had," he paused to hiccup, "a part-ay." She laughed at the seriousness of his tone.

"Hm. And whom did you invite to this party? I see you've brought what's left of Miller, Bud and Sam. I've seen you drunk before and I know it takes more than three beers to bring you to this point."

Grissom's face contorted in thought, his brows furrowing deeply. Pushing himself the rest of the way, he giggled as he kicked the door shut. Then looking up at Sara he whispered, "Morgan."

"How much Captain Morgan there, sailor?"

"Um…'alf a Morgan."

A noise of disapproval fell from her lips as she pushed Grissom into a sitting position and knelt down beside him. His face was slightly pale and sweat beaded along his brow. Grabbing his hands, she could feel the clamminess of his skin against her palm.

"Are you going to be sick?" she asked softly, placing the back of hand on his forehead.

"'unno," he shrugged.

The minute Sara heard the first dry heave, she ushered Grissom into the bathroom and commanded him not to move. Running into the kitchen to grab more washcloths she finally heard him empty his stomach. Knocking softly, she peeked in and found him clutching at the bowl in a fetal position like his life depended on it.

Entering, she knelt down beside him and brought a cool washcloth to his forehead. Grissom looked up at her, his eyes surprisingly lucid given his condition. She motioned for him to hold the cool compress on his own as she grabbed another one and began to dab at the remains around his mouth.

Catching his gaze, she stopped. "Why you helping me, Sara?"

"If you feel capable enough to do this yourself, I'll leave," she warned, wiping one last time at his mouth.

"I'm 'eing serious," he slurred.

"So am I. You may be drunk, but that doesn't mean I have up put up with your shit."

Removing the cloth from his head, he handed it to Sara. "I'm sorry."

Taking it, she set it down and stood up, smoothing out her pajama bottoms. "Now's not the time for serious talk, Griss. We'll have plenty of time for that once you're sober."

Holding out her hand, she waited for Grissom to grab it. With shaky fingers, he grasped her hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. A wave of nausea swept over him and he braced himself on the counter while he waited it out. Sara simply waited until he nodded and she led him to the living room.

"I'd offer you the bed, but the neighbors are at it again."

"Hm. 'Member that time when we—"

She shoved a blanket in his arms and pushed his tipsy body down onto the couch. Bouncing slightly, he pulled the blanket closer to his chest and looked up at her. Sara sighed, "Now's not the time to reminisce about our sex life."

Grissom only nodded and lay back on the couch with the blanket still tightly clutched against his chest. The minute he closed his eyes, Sara knew he was dead to the world and she turned and left, leaving her drunk, slightly relationship-inept boyfriend in her living room to sleep off the effects of way too much alcohol.

Four hours later, Grissom woke and found Sara sitting across from him holding a cup of steaming coffee in his direction. Shifting, he threw his legs onto the floor and leaned forward, taking the cup from her hands.

"Smells good," he said, staring down into the cup.

"It should," she started, grabbing her own cup from a side table next to the chair in which she sat, "It's Greg's Blue Hawaiian."

He nodded and finally took a sip. Sara followed suit and carefully watched him close his eyes as he enjoyed the liquid bliss in his hands.

She had heard the rumors about Lady Heather before. They had floated around the Lab in much the same way people thought her and Greg had had a moment that eventful morning they shared a decon shower. The capacity in which she piqued Grissom's interest spread like wildfire. But back then that was just office chatter and Grissom was still dancing around her.

When she heard the crime scene involved the infamous dominatrix, an uneasy feeling settled low in the pit of her stomach. And the minute Catherine opened her mouth and ran off her jaw, the feeling went from uneasy to gut wrenching in less than three seconds.

For the rest of the shift, she compared herself to the beautifully commanding dominatrix having met her in the hospital. Even with bruises peppering her skin, she possessed a beauty Sara knew not many women had. Sara never felt so plain before. Panic gripped her then; did Grissom find her boring? Too average? Did he want someone more sophisticated to spend the rest of his life with? Someone like Heather?

She took a sip.

Maybe Catherine was right. Maybe she shouldn't have gotten involved with Grissom. She should have come to Vegas, done the job she was asked and left. But instead, she decided to stay and throw herself into nearly six years of pained attempts to form and maintain a relationship with the man she had grown to care for.

Maybe she should have turned him away that night he showed up to her apartment after they found Nick buried alive. She should have said no to the warm embrace of his arms and kept the platonic relationship they had just begun to amend. She should have said no to his impromptu dinner invitation the day after Nick was released from the hospital.

There were too many maybes; you could kill yourself with maybes.

Their relationship wasn't a total disaster. In fact, ninety percent of the time everything was fine. He courted her in the best way he knew how and that suited her just fine. She didn't need over dramatic displays of love, flowers every week or insanely expensive jewelry. She just needed someone to be able to confide in her, trust her and tell her when they're going to be spending the night with a dominatrix.

God, when Grissom screwed up, he screwed up royally. Sara considered herself a forgiving person when it came to Grissom, but there was only so much she could take. Strike two for Grissom. One more and he was out.

The clearing of Grissom's throat brought her out of her mind and she quickly took another sip. "We need to talk, Gil."

He looked up at her at the use of his first name. For a second he looked back down at his half filled cup and then back at her. "I agree."

"I'd start if I were you," she bit out with a little more venom than she had expected.

Grissom hung his head, "Where do I begin?"

"Wherever you want." She crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair, waiting for him to continue.

Grissom sighed and ran a hand through his matted hair. "I never slept with her," he looked up at her then, "I wasn't lying when I said I'd never paid for sex before."

Sara scoffed, "According to Catherine you two had chemistry. You sure she wouldn't have just given it to you?"

For a few tense minutes, Grissom remained quiet. He didn't know the best answer to that question. Slowly, he answered, "I don't know. Maybe."

"Then what stopped you? You were on the clock, you had moral discrepancies, you—" her voice rose with every word until he cut her off.

"She wasn't you."

Sara sucked in her breath and let it out slowly. "Grissom, you pretended I didn't exist back then. You said no when I asked you out to dinner and then you avoided me like the plague. Why didn't you just move on?"

"Sara, it's not that simple. Nothing involving you ever is. You're the only person to make me question every move I make."

"You seemed to have done a pretty shitty job of that last night," she said, bringing her knees to her chest.

"I have no good explanation that I know you'll accept. I just," he sighed heavily, "wanted to help her, Sara. I know you would have done the same if you were in my shoes."

Sara nodded. "I would have," she agreed, "but I would have told you what I was doing so you wouldn't worry about me running off with a dominatrix."

An awkward silence floated between them and Sara idly traced circles around the rim of the coffee cup. Grissom shifted in his seat and wrung his hands nervously. For a few long minutes Sara wondered if this was all her fault. Maybe she did something wrong, said something wrong or didn't love him enough.

"Catherine says Lady Heather's the only woman to rattle you. That she was a challenge for you." Her voice was small and she took another sip of the now tepid coffee and tried to hide the shakiness in her hands. Tears formed and stung her eyes as she tried hard to remain strong.

A small laugh bubbled over Grissom's lips eliciting a curious look from Sara. "Shows you what Catherine knows. Heather never rattled me. Her lifestyle was interesting and I found it fascinating—"

"You're walking a fine line, Grissom," Sara warned lightly, "And I really don't want to have to throw something at you."

"You're the only woman to rattle me," he stated bluntly receiving a wide-eyed look from the woman sitting across from him. "From the moment I met you, you rattled me. You were this beautiful, intelligent, compelling young woman and you shook me."

Grissom sighed and pushing himself off the couch, knelt down in front of Sara taking her hands in his. He looked up at her, surprised she hadn't pulled away from his touch. Instead, she closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh as his thumbs gently stroked the skin of her palm.

"Heather wasn't a challenge." His words warranted Sara jerking her hands away from his in her poor attempt to push him aside. Blocking her in, he stared at her while her eyes sparked with fire.

"I want you to move," she spat angrily, trying to push him away.

"No, Sara, it's not what you think. YOU were the challenge. Before you, I didn't care about living a life of solitude, forever doomed to die alone with nothing but my pet cockroaches for company. After I met you, something in me snapped. I saw what life could be with someone I truly cared about, with love and companionship."

Sara relaxed and stopped pushing her balled fists against his chest. Grissom, too, backed down and leaned back on his heels, resting his hands on his thighs. He let out a small laugh. "I don't think I need to remind you hard it was for me to start something with you. I was, and to some degree still am, afraid you'd realize how inadequate I am and leave."

He let out a sigh. "Sometimes I don't know what to say to you. Afraid that what I say will upset you, and I swear Sara, it's never my intention to hurt you. So instead I say nothing at all and that seems to be worse."

Sara swallowed hard, digesting Grissom's words as she pulled him closer. Bending, Sara scooted forward and trapped Grissom's torso between her legs. She saw his eyes close as she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"All I ever need from you is truth and honesty, Gil. You shouldn't be afraid to tell me anything; that's all I've ever wanted from you." Her voice was soft, breath dancing across his skin.

"You hurt me, though. For a while I was convinced I did something wrong, that I didn't love you enough and you need something more." Grissom wrapped his arms around her waist and she wrapped hers around his neck. The tears that threatened to fall finally did and left small, wet circles on Grissom's shirt.

"Oh, Sara, honey. Your love for me is more than I deserve," he murmured against her neck. "I love you, more than I could ever tell you."

Sara sniffed. "I love you, too, Gil."

Grissom pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Are we fixed or are we still broken?"

Sara gave a small smile and grabbed for his hands. Squeezing them, she said, "We're not fixed, but we're not broken. Just fractured."


End file.
